


Metaphysical Determinism

by FujinoLover



Series: We're Perfect for Each Other (You're Gonna Figure That Out Someday) [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: AU that's not really AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:12:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujinoLover/pseuds/FujinoLover
Summary: It had been in Root’s mind since the night of her twelfth birthday and the mark showed up under her right collarbone: who the hell was Veronica?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xxIzabela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxIzabela/gifts).



It was just the way it was for Samantha. The sky is blue, people rarely make sense, and everyone has a mark—the first words their so-called soulmate would say to them—tattooed somewhere on their body. Well, unless they never had the chance to meet their soulmate or the soulmate died after they met and then the tattoo would fade. She had accepted these as realities throughout her childhood. Once puberty kicked off, however, it changed. The sky is still blue but with holes on the atmosphere, people are just bad codes, and her mark is nonsense.

She would be lying to say that she hadn’t anticipated her mark. Society made sure she did, with the classes dedicated to it, countless TV shows surrounding the topic, and even support group for unfortunate people with common marks like _hi_ and _hello_. She was excited about it too. Most of the time it was meant to be romantic, but sometimes it was platonic. Either way the soulmate would be her best friend and she couldn’t wait to meet them.

She had wished for it to be programming code or something along the line of _can you hear me_. It wasn’t too farfetched, given the rapid growth of technologies, that sometime in the near future there would be artificial intelligences and even humanoid robots prowling about on earth and for one of them to be her soulmate.

Her mother had laughed when she told her that her dream soulmate was a robot—little firecracker with good shape and perhaps brown hair. She pouted at the reaction, but it only lasted until her mother said _maybe you should build your own soulmate, sweetie_. By the time a peck landed on the top of her head and _follow your talents_ murmured against her hairline, she was grinning. Her soulmate was going to be just perfect.

Too bad for her, her soulmate was not an artificial intelligence, but might be a robot (she kept her hope up). Her soulmate’s first words to her would be _hello, Veronica_ and she was as disappointed as she was confused. The more she thought about it, the more it didn’t make any sense.

Despite the mark, she clung to the idea of having an artificial intelligence as her soulmate, even more when the computers were added as new facility in the library. She had snuck in to tinker with the system when it arrived. It amazed her that it made more sense than people did. It was beautiful, by design, and Root was a suitable name she chose to use. The part of her that people didn’t quite get, that she had to hide. If her own soulmate called her by a different name on their first meeting, then there was nothing stopping her from using Root as her own name.

The mark preoccupied her mind more than she would like to admit, though. So much that one time she played _The Oregon Trail_ , she registered Veronica as her username instead of Root like she usually did. Her grin was wide when the game’s music began playing and _Hello Veronica_ greeted her on the screen. She had made her soulmate.

“Veronica?”

Samantha jolted up on her seat. That was close enough to her mark and said close enough to her ear. She turned around and found a girl she shared several classes with was standing behind her. It seemed like the girl had been looking over her shoulder for a while. She flushed in embarrassment for being caught playing the dumb game.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you.” The girl offered a sheepish smile, holding the books on her arm closer to her chest. “I just thought your name is Samantha? I’m Hanna, by the way.”

By then, Samantha had stood up to face Hanna and closed the game behind her back. She erased all trace of her silliness without looking. The new position didn’t make much difference in term of height, though. She was only twelve while Hanna was fourteen, like everyone else in eighth grade, and she was even prettier up close.

Samantha stuffed her hands in her pockets, trying to hide her awkwardness. She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of a pretty girl’s attention. “It’s Sam, actually.”

“Hello, Sam.” Hanna’s smile tugged up on one end, turning it into a teasing smirk. “Or, hello, Veronica?”

Samantha beamed back. Perhaps the mark didn’t have to be the whole sentence. Perhaps it wasn’t even the first words. Perhaps Hanna was her soulmate, even though she didn’t have a mark of her own.

(She figured out the reason several months later when Hanna went missing.)

 

* * *

 

It took over twenty years for Root to meet her soulmate. She realized it was going to happen in less than twenty-four hours before it did. She figured out who her soulmate was, on a midnight flight from Washington to New York City no less. A lethal operative on the loose, as her boss the Special Counsel had called her. Indigo-Five-Alpha as listed in the ISA’s database. Root preferred Sameen Shaw—Sam. They even had the same nickname.

She had read Shaw’s impressive file twice, but she reread it again with renewed view. She even hacked through all possible databases that contained Shaw’s name on it. Iranian mother, father in the army, lethal car accident, medical school, dropped out of residency to join the Marines, and then picked by the ISA.

Shaw’s axis II personality disorder stood out the most and it was what made her beautiful. Perfect, even, in Root’s opinion. Someone who wasn’t like the rest of humanity, who wasn’t ruled by emotion and personal gain, who wasn’t a bad code. Someone who made sense, even though Root’s mark didn’t for years. It was now.

“You know, the last Veronica I met, she’s probably still in hospital. I had her run over by a car,” Root said, applying concealer to cover her mark with practiced ease. She had done this for years that she could do it while enjoying the horrified look Veronica sported. “I don’t like the name, but I like you.”

She capped the concealer on, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub where Veronica was bounded and gagged. Their chat earlier had been fruitless. At any other circumstance, she would get rid of her as soon as she outlived her usefulness, but she was in a good mood so she decided to spare her.

“ _You_ are the right Veronica. So, be a good girl. Keep quiet and I won’t hurt you.” She smiled at the terror filling Veronica’s eyes. “Well, more than I already did.”

There was measured knocks on the door just a minute before five. Not tardy, another point checked on Root’s growing list of the things she liked in Shaw. Springing up to her feet, she smoothened the business skirt she was wearing and winked at Veronica before she closed the bathroom door.

Ever since she figured out that she would meet her soulmate, she had thought of this exact moment over and over again. About her first words to Shaw, to be exact. Because the tricky thing about the mark was it told her what Shaw was going to say to her, it didn’t tell her what _she_ was supposed to say to Shaw. Too bad for her, the government had no particular use of the marks. Neither the Marines nor ISA kept a record of Shaw’s mark, despite their extensive physical assessment. So even if she wanted to cheat on fate and make herself Shaw’s soulmate, she couldn’t.

Root opened the door and there was her soulmate standing on the other side with no idea of what was about to happen or what she were caught up in. She almost pitied her, but she was on a mission to find The Machine and Shaw happened to hold an important piece of the puzzle.

“Hello, Veronica.”

It was hard not to smile and even harder to settle on the most fitting reaction, but Root managed. “Come in,” she said.

There was no recognition lightened up Shaw’s face. Either it wasn’t what her mark said, or it was and she had heard the words so many times before that it wasn’t special anymore. Root’s disappointment would have been more profound if Shaw’s enlistment picture had done her justice. She was way prettier in person and Root almost broke character when Shaw took off her coat—she had great shape too.

Root mentioned about Agent Cole—Mike, the nickname was unfamiliar but doing so helped gaining trust. She almost cooed when Shaw told her that the less she knew, the safer she would be. She was enjoying their role-playing and about to score the name of Aquino’s contact when Veronica broke the moment.

“Stay here,” Shaw said, gun ready at hand. “And keep away from those windows.”

While Shaw’s continuous concern for her safety was touching, she had to stop her. She sighed as she took out the stun gun from her purse and came up behind her. It made contact with Shaw’s neck the moment she discovered the real Veronica. Her body shook from the sudden flood of electricity and Root evaded when she dropped to the floor.

“Veronica and I had a bit of a chat before you got here.”

Root refrained from mentioning about her mark. It wasn’t the appropriate time. Shaw wouldn’t appreciate the information, not when she was pretty sure Shaw was itching to punch or shoot her—the thought gave her a peculiar thrill. She grabbed on her arm and dragged her away from the bathroom.

“She tried really, really hard to remember anything else that could’ve helped me, but...” With struggle, she managed to get Shaw sit on the same chair she had put Veronica on during their ‘chat’ earlier. “She didn’t know anything.” She shrugged, not too bothered because at least she met her soulmate. “I read your file, and I’m kinda a big fan,” she said with a big smile that was a tad shy and might come off as insane. She couldn’t help herself. Just like she couldn’t help herself from touching Shaw’s shoulder, to make sure that she was real, because she felt like a dream came true for her. “So, I really don’t wanna hurt you. I just need the name.”

She secured Shaw’s arms to the chair with the zipties she always brought around. One of them was loose enough so Shaw could get herself out later—after she was done with her, of course. It already felt a lot like foreplay and she was aware that trust was a significant part of a good relationship, even more when it involved bondage.

Shaw wasn’t much of a conversationalist, Root figured as she did most of the talking. Although it might have something to do with the aftereffect of tasering. Alas, as much as she would like to spend more time connecting with Shaw, their time was limited.

“Sadly, we are on a bit of a clock.” Root crouched down between Shaw’s legs. Their position could be misinterpreted as something sexual if not for the iron on her hand. “Wilson’s men started looking for Veronica here three hours ago.” She tested the warming iron with the tip of her forefinger, finding its rapid escalation in heat satisfactory. “Now...”

Root unzipped Shaw’s jacket, an unnecessary move as her neck was already exposed for the iron to burn, but she had to be sure. There had been cases of soulmates sharing the same place of the marks. She was just a little bit more disappointed when Shaw’s collarbones came into view and saw no mark there. Disappointed, but not discouraged.

“Aquino was hired to build a home, for something very special. Something I wanna find.” Root lifted the now-hot iron and held it on the side of Shaw’s neck, just an inch away from her skin. She considered making her own mark on Shaw, something she would remember her by for a long time. “So you’re gonna tell me the name of his contact.”

It took Shaw a second to reply. “One of the things I left out of my file...” she said, unfazed. “I kind of enjoy this sort of thing.”

It wasn’t the answer Root had hoped for, but she expected nothing less. Shaw was a good soldier, almost to a fault. A wide grin broke on her face at the admission, though. Shaw was just so perfect—they were perfect for each other. “I’m so glad you said that.” She tilted the iron closer. “I do too.”

However, before it made contact and left a different kind of mark on Shaw, her phone beeped. She groaned in annoyance when she saw the footage of Wilson’s men on the screen. They were making their way to the room. She had a minute to clear out before they did.

“And just when we were starting to really connect.” The setback had Root pouting as she gathered her gun, coat, and purse. She didn’t even consider the situation she was going to leave Shaw at, she trusted her ability to get herself free in time. “I’m sorry. A little rude, I know. We’ll do this again soon,” she said as she left.

Root knew they were going to meet again. While she didn’t get any closer to finding The Machine, she found Shaw and she already liked her, soulmate or not. Regardless of Shaw’s mark—if she even had one in the first place—Root was sure she had made an impression.

 

* * *

 

Root was convinced that it wasn’t coincidence. It was fate. Everything seemed to be when it came to Shaw.

The Machine whispering in her ear didn’t make her bulletproof, but She did tell her when to angle her body to the side so the bullet went straight through her shoulder. She hadn’t thought about getting shot there when she pranced forward, unarmed, to save Cyrus Wells. The Machine offered her a job, She never said it would be easy.

Her worry dissipated when she saw that the bullet had missed her mark by an inch. She might not be Shaw’s soulmate—she had learned to accept the possibility after The Machine refused to tell her anything about Shaw’s mark—but her mark said Shaw was hers. While she would never force herself in any way to Shaw, she liked to keep her mark intact.

When she was done treating the wound, she found Cyrus right where she had left him earlier, sitting alone on the couch in the safe house’s living room. Guns made him nervous, he had told her, but more so a bleeding gunshot wound. He hadn’t offered his help even though he was worried about her. He still was.

Root squeezed his arm in assurance and led him out to the balcony to talk. The Machine had informed her that John and Fusco were on their way there with Cyrus’s luggage, and so did Harold and Shaw. They could use the little privacy before the party arrived and they did, not a minute later.

In the end, Root didn’t manage to come clean to Cyrus. She tried, but his metaphysical determinism remained undeterred. Perhaps it was better that way. Parting words were exchanged and then he left with John escorting him to a new life. Shaw marched up to her as soon as the door closed. There was a fresh scrap on Shaw’s cheek that she wanted to ask about, but forgot when the collar of her t-shirt was tugged down.

The dressing didn’t cover her mark. The concealer she always put on was wiped down when she cleaned the wound. Her mark was there in plain view, the black ink stood out compared to the white dressing underneath. Even under the dim light, she could make out the _hello, Veronica_ right there and so could Shaw. She waited for her reaction with batted breath.

There was none.

“Keep ‘em dry,” Shaw said.

Shaw inspected the cochlear implant’s surgery site next and Root tilted her head to give her better access without a thought. She had hoped for something— _anything_. Because she could almost hear Shaw’s thought making connections and arriving at a realization. She did recheck on her shoulder, staring at it for a moment longer than necessary.

“Change the dressing every seventy-two hours.”

It wasn’t what Root had expected. “I love it when you play doctor,” she said, forcing out a teasing smirk.

Shaw let go of her t-shirt then, turning on her heel and left the safe house without as much as a word. Root sighed, keeping the smile on when the door shut behind Shaw. The lack of acknowledgement confirmed what she had suspected all along—Shaw was her soulmate, but she wasn’t Shaw’s and Shaw didn’t care about any of these.

Although Root had long ago decided that it didn’t matter, that the fact that Shaw was hers was good enough for her, she hated that it still felt like her heart was breaking inside her chest.

 

* * *

 

It took Root another year to know that her assumption was wrong all along, but the little, hopeless romantic part of her was right.

The walk back to the safe house was spent in silence. Root was content on letting it stayed that way. _This could take all night_ and the smiles they shared afterwards were a promise of what to come—the next step on their unlabeled relationship. However, above all that had happened, it was the part where Shaw admitted that she had chosen to stay, because she guessed there were things she cared about there, that Root appreciated the most.

It wasn’t the only two things that Shaw chose to do that night.

Root had disposed of the inactive MAR-V along with the vials when Shaw began the next step of decontamination. She was admiring the way the silhouette of muscles flexed on Shaw’s back as she stripped off her shirt. When she bent over to put her shirt in the trash bag on the floor, along with her boots and jacket (to be incinerated later, an unfortunate procedure of full decontamination), the black tank top she had on rode up and her waistband dragged down, exposing the sliver of skin of her hips.

Root’s breath caught in her throat.

It was nothing sexual. She had seen a topless Shaw before, but she hadn’t seen her lower back and she started to suspect that Shaw had kept it that way on purpose. It was the scrawl low on the back of Shaw’s left hip. When she straightened up, it was gone, hidden under the black fabric. She must have heard her gasp because she looked back at her over her shoulder. A slow smirk tugged up her lips and she cocked a brow, as if challenging her to act on the newly-discovered fact.

Root was too entranced to give a proper reaction to the teasing. She came up to Shaw just as she began to take off the tank top. Her hand was cold compared to the warm skin of Shaw’s hip, but she didn’t move away from the touch or give a protest when fingers hooked on and tugged down the waistband of her pants. The words written there were clearer up close.

_come in_

When Root ran her thumb over the mark with a dazed look on her face, Shaw let her. Her instinct when she first saw Root’s mark and made the connection to her own, was to flee. She didn’t care about her mark; aside from the fact that it was so common that for once she had something to assure herself that she could be ordinary, that she wasn’t so different from the people around her, and that there was nothing wrong with her. She never had the intention of figuring out who was her soulmate among the many people who had said _come in_ to her on the first meeting, but of course it was Root all along.

There was accusation and annoyance and a little pout when Root met Shaw on the eye, but she smiled at her and all of those were washed away with relief and adoration. So much adoration that Shaw had wanted to walk away from her again, but she didn’t. Root happened to be one of the things she cared about. The person she cared the most about—her safe place—not that she would ever admit it out loud. So she snickered instead.

“You always say the sweetest thing.”

Shaw stepped away from Root’s reach, snatching the clean towel by the bathroom door before she vanished inside. Root stood there, dumbfounded for a moment. The sound of the shower running snapped her out of her daze and her dopey grin turned mischievous. The fact that Shaw had left the door ajar didn’t miss her attention. She was quick to strip off her clothes, not caring in the slightest that she left them in a messy heap across the floor.

Shaw’s mark was darker when her skin was wet, her hip slippery when Root grabbed it to turn her around. Root felt her own mark burning when Shaw touched it as she ran her hand over her chest. They were indeed perfect for each other.


End file.
